Chapter 1: Times Zero

The final chord of She echoed through the beach house. The Monkees smiled at each other. Michael, the leader, sat his guitar down and stretched his lengthy arms. Micky, the drummer, jumped up from behind his drum kit, yelling, "Wow guys, that was great!"

"I know! We're going to rock that audition tomorrow for sure!" The little Englishman, Davy, laughed, watching Micky trip off the bandstand. The three Monkees laughed at Micky's clumsiness as he brushed himself off.

"Alright guys," Mike smiled. "Let's go get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Do we have any money left?" Peter, the blond bassist, asked, placing his guitar in its case.

"We have fifteen dollars." Mike said, already half-way out the door. You guys comin' or what?"

The three Monkees shouted 'Hooray!' in excitement. They then ran out the door after Mike, climbing into the Monkeemobile, and out into the streets of Los Angles.

At the diner, each Monkee ordered a ham sandwich with fries. This was only to keep within their price range, for a ham sandwich with fries was $2.50 per person. The boys placed themselves in a booth by the front door, and began to eat and talk mindlessly about Davy's latest girlfriend. However, Mike had little to say in the conversation. He didn't mind Davy's new girl, but something had him on edge. He had a feeling that something wasn't right with the restaurant. He tried looking around without the others noticing he was worried. He failed to go unnoticed.

"What's the matter Mike?" Peter was the first to ask. He always was. Peter had a sixth sense for telling when something was wrong.

"I don't know man." Mike whispered. "But something ain't right here."

"Lighten up Mike!" Micky said, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. Mike nervously tapped the table, his eyes darting all over the place. His bandmates looked at him, confused and worried looks passed among them.

Then he saw it. Mike looked down at the plates on the table, then at source of his bad vibes, then at his bandmates. "We need to go. Now."

"Mike, what's" Davy began before he got a handful of fries shoved into his mouth.

"Excuse me Miss!" Mike called to the nearest waitress. "We'd like to have the bill and some take-out bags please!" She nodded and wandered off.

"Mike what's got you on edge man?" Micky whispered, noticing how serious the situation had become. Mike wasn't paying any attention. He was frantically tapping the table with one hand, the other supporting his head. He was looking in the direction the waitress had gone, waiting for her to come back. His bandmates tried calling him back to reality, but they failed. Finally the waitress returned, providing the boys with doggie bags and their bill. Mike ordered the boys to put the food in the bags and get out to the Monkeemobile. The boys quietly did as they were told and headed out. Mike paid the bill and followed behind them.

The drive home was silent. Mike still seemed tense, so none of the others decided to ask what had put him on edge. Once they got back to the pad, Mike ran up to the bathroom. Minutes later, Micky, Peter, and Davy heard the shower running.

"What do you think set him off?" Davy asked in a whisper.

"I don't know, but I don't like it." Micky added, running a hand through his hair. "We should all probably get ready for bed though. We don't want to miss our audition."

"Right." Davy and Peter agreed. They walked into their corresponding bedrooms, Micky upstairs and Davy and Peter downstairs.

Micky headed into the bedroom, walking straight to his dresser, and pulled out a pair of stripped pyjamas. Whatever set Mike off must have been something important. He knew Mike was always cautious of the problems they got themselves into, and sometimes it could get annoying, but Micky knew it was for the good of the group and that what he did was probably the right decision. Mike entered the room in his purple-with-spots pyjamas, carrying his day clothes and wool hat in his hands. Mike tossed his clothes to the side and threw his wool hat carelessly onto the nightstand. He flopped down onto his bed and sighed deeply, eyes closed.

"Hey Mike?"

"He was there."

"Who?"

"Man," another sigh came from the Texan. "It was Mr. Zero. He was watching us from a booth on the other side of the restaurant."

Micky blinked. Mr. Zero? The Devil himself? What could he possibly want with them this time? "Mike…"

"Hm?"

"What are we going to do?"

Mike sighed, opening his eyes and sitting up. He looked Micky dead in the eyes. "I don't know, man. He is the Devil. It's not like we can run from him. I don't know what we're going to do."

"Should we tell Davy and Peter?"

Mike really didn't want to. He knew they needed to know though. Davy and Peter were like the babies of the group. Mike knew that whatever happened, Davy and Peter were the first ones he needed to protect. Micky would back him up on that. Peter didn't really have street smarts… or book smarts, but Peter did have feelings, and could feel when others weren't happy. Davy was the baby of the group. He wasn't American, and he was the youngest. Mike wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to his bandmates. Micky may be childish, but he knew Micky would do anything to defend Davy and Peter. Micky could take care of himself, to a point. "Micky, I think they have the right to know."

Micky nodded and the two Monkees returned downstairs. Davy and Peter were sitting at the kitchen table playing Go Fish. Micky greeted the others, who greeted him back in return. Micky looked at Mike, who gave Micky an unsure look. Then, Micky turned back to Davy and Peter, explaining what Mike had seen. Soon the whole band was scared of what Mr. Zero could do to them. The Monkees sat in silence for a moment, until a knock at the door summoned Davy's attention. Davy walked up to the door, attempted to look through the peep hole, (which he has failed to see through on many occasions) and opened the door. Mr. Zero pushed Davy into the wall with the door as he pranced into the Monkees' pad.

"Good evening gentlemen, or should I say, ladies." Mr. Zero laughed, marching up to the three Monkees who were now standing in defense, ready to run away at any possible moment.

"What do you want?" Mike asked, putting himself centre stage in front of Micky and Peter.

"Mike, don't-" Peter began, but a hand from Micky summoned him to silence.

"Entertainment." Mr. Zero replied. He began to file his nails in response.

"If that's all," Peter said, beginning to walk towards the bandstand. He was again stopped by Micky.

"Peter, no." Micky whispered, dragging him back by Mike.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mike asked.

Not looking up from his nails, Mr. Zero replied, "I want be entertained." Mr. Zero snapped his fingers, and Mike's eyes glazed over, they shut as he fell to the floor. Micky and Peter chorused a call for their fallen leader as they rushed to his aid. Peter laid the inert guitarist in his lap as Micky began to call to him, slapping his face. Mike continued to sleep while Zero looked up from his nails, snickering. Zero snapped his fingers twice more, and soon Micky, Mike, and Peter were all asleep.

"Well, then, let's see…Nesmith go can go back to his little Texas homeland. He'll stay out of trouble there." Zero walked over to the three inert bodies, waving a hand them. Soon the three men were women, and a large smile appeared on Zero's face. Then, looking down at Mike, Zero waved his hand again, a light green mist encasing the female. The mist formed a solid necklace around her neck. Then, with a snap of Zero's fingers, the changed Mike disappeared into thin air.

Mr. Zero heard the door slam. Before checking the cause of the noise, his whole being was rushed to the floor by a petite percussionist, crying for Zero to change his friends back and to bring Mike back.